From Bad, to Cursed
by Mandarin Fiend
Summary: This is the story of how an ice collector, a thief, and a prince cause a war, set off an eternal winter, and find a lost princess.
1. Chapter 1

Hans cursed his bad luck under his breath as he stalked away from the party. How was he supposed to know that the pretty peasant girl he knocked into the ocean with his horse, and then barked at for getting in his way, was actually Princess Anna of Arendelle, sister of Queen Elsa?

She'd been wearing a drab brown dress, and although Hans could admit she was lovely, especially sopping wet with all that fabric clinging to… well, he saw no reason to be especially polite or helpful to a mere commoner.

When he saw her at the coronation party in all her royal regalia with her hair elegantly done up, standing beside her equally beautiful sister with her head held high and her back ramrod straight, Hans gulped.

As Hans bowed low over the Queen's gloved hand and introduced himself, he felt Princess Anna's glare like tiny icy needles all over his body.

"How nice see you again Prince Hans," said Princess Anna, the words laced with venom as he bowed over her hand. She was smiling demurely, but the way her eyes were narrowed gave away how displeased she was.

"You two have met before?" asked Queen Elsa.

"Well, you see-" before Hans could get another word in Anna cut him off.

"_Yes_ Elsa we have. I met Prince Hans this morning, down by the wharf. He was on horseback, not paying very close attention to where he was going and we sort of… _bumped_ into one another." she smiled at him sweetly.

"Oh I see... Well do send my regards to your family Hans. I have had the honour of meeting a few of your brothers." there was a wry twist to the kind smile Elsa bestowed on him.

He knew as well as she did that after Anna and Elsa's parents died in a tragic accident three years earlier, some of Han's older brothers had come to try and win her hand in marriage to become the new king of Arendelle.

Needless to say, none of their plans came to fruition, and the whole incident was so embarrassing that the three brothers in questions, (numbers 3, 6, and 8) forbid anyone from mentioning it. All three pretended he was invisible for two whole years when he mentioned the North Mountain in passing simply because the North Mountain was located in Arendelle.

Rumours got around anyway, and Hans was led to believe that Princess Anna had sent them on wild goose chases to complete silly tasks that were supposed to win Elsa's regard. In reality, they were devised to get them out of the way so Elsa could devote all her time to her new duties. She had never had any intention of taking a husband.

For both sisters, the Kingdom of Arendelle and its people came first, and that meant securing Elsa's authority as the leader of Arendelle and not letting any foreign powers think that just because they were young, they could be trifled with.

Over the past three years both sisters had more than proved themselves. Elsa stayed in Arendelle and led her people with grace and dignity.

Anna travelled to other kingdoms regularly to strengthen their friendships and trade agreements.

Under Elsa's cool calm leadership with Anna's enthusiastic help, Arendelle had flourished.

Hans had hoped to charm one of the sisters, preferably Elsa, into marrying him. He was the best looking of his twelve brothers in his humble opinion, and quite capable to being very charming when necessary.

He asked Queen Elsa to dance, but she politely declined and offered him her sister's hand instead.

Anna glared at her sister as Hans led her out onto the dance floor.

"I'd like to formally apologise to the princess of Arendelle for hitting her with my horse... and everything after," said Hans, taking Anna's small hand in his and placing the other at her waist. He broke out his most endearing smile.

Anna stomped on his foot and Hans had to stifle a pained yelp.

"Listen to me carefully Prince Hans," said Anna, her voice low and threatening, "I know why you're here and it won't work. Neither I nor Elsa will marry you. So you can go back to the Southern Isles and tell your twelve brothers that you failed."

After their dance Anna stormed back to her sister's side in high dudgeon.

Suffice to say Hans' plan had failed, and he'd have to try another kingdom with hopefully more romantically inclined princesses who would be receptive to his overtures.

He collected his horse from the royal stable and galloped through the empty streets down to the port, cursing his wretched luck all the way.

All the streets were empty for the towns people were all at the castle celebrating, and would probably be doing so for the rest of the night. He figured he may as well retire to his chambers aboard his boat. He was in too fowl a mood make a good impression on any of the other foreign dignitaries who may have princesses of marriageable age in line for the throne.

Because he was lost in thought he didn't see the person on the gangplank. For the second time in less than 24 hours he hit a person with his horse sending them into the ocean.

"This is just great. Doesn't anyone in this godforsaken_ kingdom look where they're going!?_" he huffed; pulling on the reins so he could make sure they weren't drowning.

It was dark so Hans couldn't really see anything in the water, but he could hear spluttering. Good, a sign of life.

"Watch where you're going next time!" he yelled angrily.

"Aren't you going to help me?" it was a female voice.

"I am a Prince. I have more important things to attend to than pulling rubbish out of the ocean. Don't get in my way again." he replied angrily. This had to be the worst night ever.

He kicked his heels into his horse's side and urged it into a trot towards his boat.

Suddenly a bright light appeared in front of him, and he was momentarily blinded. Hans lost his seating and fell hard on his right arm. His horse panicked and galloped away.

The light was coming closer and closer towards him. Hans found himself frozen to the spot, he wanted to scream, run, _anything,_ but he found himself incapable. An old woman materialised seemingly out of thin air in front of him. She was sopping wet, her long white hair plastered to her face. Two gnarled bony hand stuck out the sleeves of the long black cloak she was wearing. She held an ornate lamp aloft, swinging it gently in front of his face.

The light from the lamp was mesmerising, it resonated and Hans found himself wishing he could touch it.

"Prince Hans of the Southern Iles, do you know who I am?" said the old woman in a strong voice that belied her frail appearance. He shook his head.

"I am the old woman who knows magic and I do not take kindly to whippersnappers like yourself pushing me into the ocean!" her voice rose in volume with each word until she was bellowing. She stepped forward and placed a hand on Hans' forehead.

Her weathered hand was cold, and then suddenly it was freezing against his skin, so cold it burned. It occurred to Hans that knocking into this woman was an even bigger mistake than knocking Princess Anna into the ocean.

Then she released him and Hans fell to the ground. Black spots appeared in front of his eyes and tried to blink them away.

"The best part about this spell is that you can't tell anyone about It." cackled the old woman. It was the last thing Hans heard before descending into oblivion.

* * *

**What did you think? Kristoff POV is next, and then Flynn after that. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

Kristoff always had a soft spot for animals.

When he saw the wretched creature limping dazedly, he couldn't help but scoop the poor thing up and take it home with him.

It didn't react to anything very much that first day. It didn't even bat a whisker when Sven licked its face or when Kristoff bandaged its paw.

Since his grandmother had passed away the previous fall, it was just him and Sven at the cottage he called home. Even then, Sven technically didn't count seeing as he was a reindeer.

If Sven were to count, then so did the duck and her six ducklings, the cow called Shelley, the owl that slept in the chimney and stole Kristoff's toast in the morning when he wasn't watching, and his grandmother's old dog Penny, who continued to sleep at the foot of his grandmother's bed.

If you counted all the animals then Kristoff wasn't alone, and most of the time he didn't_ feel _alone, but some nights he felt unaccountably melancholy.

On those frosty evenings he would play his lute and sing the lullabies his grandmother had taught him at the top of his lungs to ward off the cravings for human companionship.

It was his singing that seemed to snap the dog out its stupor. It was medium sized, with a shiny russet coloured coat and big green eyes.

It walked over clumsily, stared him straight in the eye and let out a short sharp bark. It looked so surprized at the sound that came out of its mouth that it fell back on its haunches.

Kristoff stopped playing and leaned forward.

"What's up little guy? You feeling better?"

The dog stood up again and let out a series of the strangest barks Kristoff had ever heard in his life.

He found himself glancing at Sven, who went on chewing his carrot, and blinked drowsily as if to say '_Don't expect me to translate._'

Kristoff reached out to give it a pat on the head but it backed away so hastily that it collided with Sven's leg and ended up and ended up sprawled on the ground.

Kristoff shrugged and decided to take the dog back to Arendelle on Monday when he delivered his weekly quota of ice; maybe he belonged to a family and had gotten lost. Even if that wasn't the case, he was striking looking dog so it probably wouldn't be hard to find him a new home.

He delivered straight to the palace. The queen had a thing for ice; something Kristoff could identify with.

For as long as he could remember it used to be his grandfather who delivered straight to the palace, and carved ice sculptures for the then princess.

When his grandfather fell ill, the duty had fallen to him. It was something of a trade-family secret: where to find the best ice, and how to make the unyielding substance not only bend to your will, but transform into transient works of art.

His Mondays were spent carving and chiselling away ice into whatever took his fancy. Sometimes Princess Anna would join him and put in a request for something in particular, (she once had him sculpt the Duke of Weaseltown and the finished product had made her laugh so hard that she'd nearly choked), and very rarely the Queen herself would make a request, (she once had him sculpt a giant snowman for Anna's birthday.)

Kristoff loved his job. He loved ice, he loved carving, and if he was being completely honest with himself, he had a _huge_ crush on Princess Anna, and loved when she made requests of him.

When Monday morning dawned, he rose with the sun and loaded up his cart to go out with Sven to harvest the clearest ice he could find on the mountain.

He took the dog with him so he could head straight into town afterwards.

When he arrived, he nodded to each of the guards flanking the perpetually open palace gates.

They waved him through with a smile. Arendelle was a small place, everyone knew everyone.

With Sven's help he loaded his huge block of ice into the large trolley, and pushed it with practiced ease into the palace. The dog followed his footsteps wearily.

Kristoff had a rotating roster. There were seven galleries in the palace where his sculptures were displayed; this week it was the royal portrait gallery that was to house his latest creation.

Princess Anna was waiting for him, and sprang up with energy from a sofa when he arrived.

"Hey Kristoff! Can you make me a bust of a man wearing Northern Isle garb and some ice daggers I can throw at it?" Kristoff chuckled.

"Is that an official request?"

"Yes! I need to let off some steam. Let me tell you-" she animatedly described in detail the coronation ceremony and the ball that was held afterwards, doing in Kristoff's opinion a very amusing impression of the youngest prince of the Southern Isles.

"Who's this handsome guy?" asked Anna, crouching low to pet the dog on the head.

"I found him on the night of your sister's coronation, wandering down by the docks. I was going to try and find a family for him."

The dog didn't seem to appreciate her efforts and barked at her like he was affronted.

Princess Anna sat with her legs folded under her beside the dog and continued petting him.

"So you _did_ come to the celebration! Why didn't I see you? Everybody was invited."

Kristoff positioned his ice in the middle of the room and took out his array of chisels and picks.

"I'm not once for dancing or parties," he replied gruffly, dusting off his favourite chisel.

"You should have at least come and said hello! Besides, if you'd seen Prince Hans, then you could make an accurate likeness of his face for me to throw daggers at. Now I have to settle for a generalized Southern Isles Prince."

The dog growled from Anna lap and let out a series of short sharp barks.

"Good boy! Those Southern Isles Princes are _so _pretentious aren't they," said Anna, throwing her arms around the dog's neck and cuddling him to her chest. It let out a small whine and licked her face. Anna giggled.

"How about I keep him Kristoff?" asked Anna, turning her best puppy dog eyes on him.

"Umm, are you sure your sister would approve?"

"Kristoff, it's a _pet_. Not like its marriage or something." Kristoff signed. It wasn't like he could deny her anything anyway.

"I wasn't sure if he already had a family though..."

"Well how about I keep him until the real owners come forward? Besides, unless you find them today, you're way less likely to run into them than I am. You live up on the mountain in the middle of nowhere."

"I hardly live _on_ the mountain. I live at the foot of the mountain…" he grumbled without much heat.

"Please?" Kristoff sighed; she was doing the puppy dog eye thing. He could never resist those eyes.

"_Fine_."

"Yes!" Anna fist pumped, "Does he have a name yet?"

"No. You get to name him too."

The rest of the time they spent thinking of suitable names for the royal puppy.

When he finished the sculpture of the bust, complete with five ice daggers, Anna was still tossing up between Olaf and Andy.

She took a break from decision making to hurl the ice daggers at the bust. Her aim was very poor.

"I'll ask Elsa what she thinks I should call him, although I'm leaning towards Olaf. Thanks for today Kristoff. See you later!" she scampered from the room with the puppy cradled in her arms.

Kristoff would only freely admit it within the confines of his own mind; he was desperately jealous of that puppy.

On his ride home he thought at about Anna, her exuberance, how pretty she was, how kind she was, and he wished she were anyone but a princess. If she wasn't a princess he might actually have a chance with her.

He didn't know it then, but that day ice sculpting with Anna was the last normal day either of them would have for a while.


	3. Chapter 3

Flynn sat in the ugly duckling nursing a beer that was poured for him by the barman into a dirty glass.

Everyone was discussing in undertones the war that was brewing between Arendelle and the Southern Iles.

So far Corona had remained neutral, but being situated smack dab in the middle of the two was not going to make that easy. The men on the stools adjacent to Flynn were discussing the likelihood of Corona taking either side.

"It's got to be Arendelle, you know their late Queen was the sister of ours. Plus didn't our King and Queen go to the coronation ceremony of Queen Elsa? Cutting it close to the Lost Princess's birthday if you ask me," said one man knowingly.

"I think they'll side with the Southern Iles personally. Arendelle kidnapped one of their princes! Our Princess got kidnapped! They can bond over that-" replied another.

"But they have eleven Princes left, how many Princes does one Kingdom need?" the first man retorted.

"We haven't got any Princes; maybe they'll lend us one!" yelled a drunk intruding on their conversation.

The men spared him a disdainful look before returning to their debate.

It was all anyone could talk about for the past week. Although not directly involved, the King and Queen of Corona had issued a draft asking that all able bodied men report to the castle for service. Naturally, the clientele of the Ugly Duckling were avoiding that call.

Suddenly a woman kicked open the door to the bar so forcefully that she knocked out Grover who'd been standing in the way. As she stepped over his prone body casually, everyone in the inn stared, gobsmacked.

She was wearing all leather, black leather pants, trench coat, boots; even her corset was black leather. There was whip coiled in black loops at her waist and her left hand lay on the handle lightly, obviously ready to lash out if provoked. Her black hair was tied back in a long braid, and her eyes were rimmed heavily with kohl.

Her face was beautiful, devastatingly so, only marred by a thin scar across her temple and the expression on her face. It was so cold and calculating that it was frightening.

While everyone else stared and shuffled out of the woman's way gingerly, Flynn Rider's keen eyes picked up a few pertinent things.

She had a whip so she must have horses, and if she had a team of horses she must have arrived in a carriage or at the very least a phaeton.

The brand of boots she was wearing didn't come cheap. In fact, leather was very expensive and her whole outfit was so immaculate and well-constructed that Flynn was sure the woman must have paid an arm and a leg to have everything custom made. _Definitely_ custom made considering the perfectly tight fit.

She was obviously rich so Flynn drew the conclusion that her carriage more than likely contained expensive items, or was at the very least made of expensive materials. Expensive items or materials, Flynn wasn't fussed. He planned on pilfering either.

Flynn slipped out the back exit way stealthily as the woman demanded the best room for the night from the barman.

Sure enough, parked out front there was an elaborate carriage with a team of four black horses to pull it. Flynn ran a hand along the side of the carriage appreciatively. Fresh lacquer, black with a gold trim. Flynn whistled appreciatively. The knobs on the carriage door alone would fetch a good price, they appeared to be pure gold, but even if they were plated he was glib enough to pass them off as solid if it came to it...

"You there! What are you doing?" a large brutish man with features reminiscent of a potato strode towards him as quickly as he could while doing up his fly. He'd obviously gone to take care of business in one of the bushes surrounding the inn.

"The lady sent me to look after the carriage. She told me to tell you to head in and kick back, maybe grab a pint at the bar."

The man looked taken aback for a moment, and then he shrugged.

He threw Flynn a silver coin and headed in without a second glance back.

Flynn smirked to himself.

He quickly pulled on the door to the carriage, only to find that it was locked. He pulled a piece of wire from his satchel and easily picked the lock. The door sprang open with a satisfying click.

The sight that met Flynn's eyes was not one he expected.

Rather than the expensive luxury items he was hoping for, inside the carriage there was an unconscious woman. Her clothing was exquisite, just from looking at it Flynn could tell the thread count of the dark green dress was off the charts.

Then the noticed a few more things. Her white blonde hair was coming undone from what had obviously once been a very elegant up-do. The exquisite dress was very rumpled and the hem was torn in several places. There was a rather large bump on her left temple, and most damning of all, her hands and feet were tied together with lengths of black cloth.

Flynn swore under his breath. He hated when things like this happened – clear cut moral decisions. He vastly preferred ambiguity.

What he wanted to do was shut the door and lock it and pretend like he hadn't seen a thing. The right thing to do would be to untie the pretty lady and assist her since she had quite clearly been abducted.

Already annoyed at himself, Flynn scooped up the lady and slung her over one shoulder and took her into the woods away from the carriage least her captors come out. This was why he hated clear cut moral decisions; he always went with right and it inevitably ended up with him regretting he had ever tried to be good in the first place.

He walked for about ten minutes until he found a good clearing then he unceremoniously placed the woman on the ground. He rifled through his satchel to find his pocket knife before cutting through the bindings at her ankles.

As he was cutting through the restraints binding her wrists together, he couldn't help but notice her gloves.

They were the most exquisite gloves Flynn had ever seen in his life, and that was saying something because he stole pretty gloves all the time. They were pure white with intricate blue stitching depicting snowflakes near her elbow.

The fabric they were made of seemed almost iridescent, glowing slightly in the diminished light of the early evening.

Flynn pulled off one of the gloves in a smooth practiced motion and rubbed the fabric between his index finger and thumb, scrutinizing the blue stitching carefully. He didn't notice the women's hand twitch

Considering the state of the rest of the woman's fancy clothing, it was nothing short of amazing that the gloves didn't have a speck of dirt on them.

He would carry her into town and leave her with the captain. After everything she had been through she probably wouldn't even notice a missing pair of gloves, or else she'd assume that the black leather woman and potato face man had taken them.

Flynn pulled off the other glove and pocketed the pair, reasoning that it was only fair he take something as payment for saving the woman from her abductors.

That was the moment the women began to come to. Flynn was happy; this meant he didn't have to carry her into town. He could just point her in the right direction and be on his way…

It took a moment for her eyes to focus on him.

"What happened?" she croaked weakly.

"I don't know what happened, but if I were to hazard a guess, I would say you were kidnapped or abducted for ransom."

Her eyes went wide at his words.

"Where are we?"

"About a half hour walk out from Corona."

"_What!? Corona!?_ I have to send a message to Arendelle immediately!"

What happened next, Flynn wouldn't have believed had he not witnessed it with his own eyes. The woman placed a hand against the earth to push herself up, and where her hand touched the ground, it _froze_. Ice spread out from the spot and covered the earth in the clearing very quickly.

"What the-" said Flynn scrambling back away from her. He overbalanced and ended up on his backside.

"O-oh no!" moaned the woman in a panic. Her hands shook and glowed white, and suddenly a bolt of ice materialised in her hands before shooting forth suddenly and striking a tree. In seconds the whole tree was completely frozen. Then it happened again twice more. The woman closed her eyes and had the good sense to aim away from Flynn. One blot hit another tree which froze just as quickly, and the other bolt she sent straight up into the sky. It flew up and suddenly imploded like a firework, raining snow and hail down on them.

The woman turned towards Flynn eyes wide with fear.

"You have to get away from me! I could hurt you! I-I can't control it!" the woman tucked her hands into her armpits trying to stem the flow of magic. A strong wind whipped up around them, and before Flynn could give her back her gloves, her whole body glowed white for a moment before ice exploded from her in all directions.

Some of it hit Flynn hard in the chest and sent him flying out of the clearing a good twelve feet back.

His very heart felt like it was freezing. One of his hands reached up to claw at his chest; sure he would find a huge ice spike sticking out of it. Miraculously there was nothing, although the feeling of cold lingered. Snow was falling thick and heavily now.

Very shell-shocked and bewildered, Flynn stumbled away aimlessly.

He'd barely taken ten steps before the ground had frozen over beneath his feet. Ice crept up the trunks of trees around him, and individual leaves became coated in frost. The creeping ice was following him.

Flynn broke into a jog, realising that all the normal sounds of the forest were conspicuously absent, replaced by an unnerving silence that felt like a calm before the storm.

The storm caught up to him minutes later as a strong wind whipped through the trees carrying with it snow and hail.

Flynn broke into a sprint, barely able to see ahead of himself.

He tripped and found himself tumbling painfully down a hill he hadn't even seen. He could make out an outcropping of stone to his left, which he leaned against to get his bearings.

Suddenly he was falling again, into a small cave that was obscured by icy vines.

When he looked up, there was a tower in front of him in a clearing flanked by cliffs on all sides.

A sudden blast of could from behind him brought to his attention that ice was creeping into the clearing. He needed shelter.

He ran towards the tower a fast as his legs would carry him and circled the bottom of it trying to find an entrance.

There wasn't one.

The only opening on the tower that he could see was a single window right at the top.

Just as he was mentally debating the merits of dying of cold versus dying of falling from a great height, ice started creeping down the sides of the cliff faces on all sides, and a sudden strong wind blew ice and snow into the clearing.

Flynn felt cold seeping into his bones, freezing him from the inside out, and it _hurt_.

Mind made up, he started to climb the side of the tower, managing to find hand and foot grips between the mortar and the loosely packed bricks. He was lucky that whoever constructed the edifice did so with shoddy workmanship.

Reaching the top, he quickly shoved open the shutters with a forceful shoulder barge and tumbled into the room.

He got up and shut everything behind him, just as the sound of the wind became a howling. He could hear hail pelting the structure.

What in the world was going on?

Suddenly the cold that had seeped into his bones seemed to crush his chest and force the air from his very lungs, and he found himself collapsing to his knees, shivering uncontrollably and holding a shaking fist to his chest. That was where the cold seemed to be seeping from.

Flynn tried to stand, but found his legs too weak to support his weight.

Why did he need to stand up anyway? Flynn decided that lying down and not moving was a perfectly fine okay thing to do in his situation.

He blinked drowsily, suddenly very tired.

"Who are you?"

He coughed and opened his eyes again, disorientated. He must have drifted off, or else maybe he was just dreaming. There was a beautiful girl brandishing a frying pan at him.

She eyed him suspiciously.

"I-I'm r-really c-cold," he managed to get out through his chattering teeth.

"A-and tired…" he mumbled, letting his heavy eyelids fall shut.

The girl gasped suddenly.

"Why did your hair do that!?" she exclaimed. Flynn shrugged without opening his eyes. He really didn't know why his hair looked so perfect all the time after all.

He felt a small very warm hand touch his cheek. He couldn't help but turn his face towards it, it felt really good. He felt another small warm hand touch his own freezing counterpart.

"Oh my goodness you're icy! Literally ice!"

After that everything became a bit blurry. He heard singing, felt the iciness in his cheat ease, and then he passed out.


End file.
